Page 14 of Jarran

“Grain doesn’t sucker. Grows straight. Toramdo spreads. Wants to grow everywhere.” He snapped off a thick sucker that had started developing its own leaves. “Have to focus it.”

“So you’re the enforcer of the toramdo section.”

“Enforcer,” he repeated with a shake of his head. The word sat strangely in his mouth. He didn’t know why. “Just pruning.”

“How do you know which ones to take off and which to leave?”

He studied the plant in front of him. “Below the first fruit cluster, take them all. Above, leave the strong ones. They’ll make more fruit.” He pointed to a sucker growing above the lowest cluster of red fruit. “This one stays. See the thickness? It’s worth keeping.”

“And the ones you take off? Those are wasted energy?”

“Yes. Plant tries to grow too many branches, but can’t feed them all. Better to choose a few and give them everything.”

She was quiet for a moment, working on the next plant. “That’s a pretty good life philosophy, actually.”

He didn’t know what a philosophy was, but her tone was warm, so he let it go.

“Does the fruit taste good?” she asked.

“Sweet. A little sharp. Better when it’s ripe; another few cycles.” He touched one of the red clusters. “These aren’t ready yet. Still hard.”

The rhythm of the work settled him. His hands knew what to do, and showing Evie made the knowledge feel useful.

He watched her work. Her arched brows drew together when she concentrated. Her full lips pressed into a line when she was deciding which shoot to pinch. She tucked her hair behind her ear when it fell forward, a quick, automatic gesture she probably didn’t notice.

He noticed. He noticed everything about her.

She stretched to reach a sucker higher on the stalk and her shirt pulled against her back. His eyes followed the curve of her waist. Something tightened low in his abdomen. The same heat he’d felt when she’d touched his temple, but steadier now. Slower. He knew what it was this time. He remembered the sensation, or his body did. Arousal. The pull of a male toward a female he wanted.

He looked away. His hands found the next sucker and snapped it off.

He wanted to kiss her mouth. The thought arrived clear and fully formed, without confusion. He wanted to press his lips to hers and feel the warmth of her breath and know what she tasted like. He wanted to touch her face and her hair and the curve of her waist where her shirt had pulled tight. His cock stirred, thickening against his thigh, and he shifted his position and angled his body away from her.

But it was more than that, and he knew it. If all he wanted was to put his body against hers, the ache wouldn’t be this deep. He wanted her to stay longer. He wanted her to use his name again. He wanted to hear her laugh, and he wanted to be the reason for it. He wanted to sit in the dirt with her and teach her things and watch her face when she figured them out.

He kept all of this to himself. He was good at keeping things to himself. He’d had a lot of practice.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Evie said, stepping back to look at the row they’d pruned.

“You’re a good learner.”

She smiled at him. Full, warm, real. His chest ached.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked, gathering her equipment.

“Same time.”

He watched her go. The lift doors closed, and the bay went quiet.

Stars, she was so kind to him. She treated him with a respect he hadn’t earned and probably didn’t deserve. But despite her calling him “Jarran” once, he was still Patient Nine. Still a male with a broken mind, with an apparently dark past, and with no future that he could see beyond this bay and its walls.

Evie was here because she was a doctor and this was her job. One day, she would leave. She would return to her home planet, or get a job with a new patient, and he would be here: kneeling in dirt, growing vegetables for a ship full of people who called him by a number.

She would never want him. He understood that clearly. He was a project. A patient. A set of readings and a damaged brain she was paid to fix. Whatever he felt for her lived entirely inside him. She would not feel it back, and he would not burden her with it. Evie deserved better than a male who couldn’t remember his own past, and one whose past, from what he’d gathered, wasn’t worth remembering. She deserved someone whole.

He wasn’t whole. He might never be. And wanting her didn’t change that.

He picked up the blanket she’d left. Held it against his chest. Breathed in the fading scent of her.